Greyzone
by mentallymellark
Summary: Katniss Everdeen is a closed-off 27-year old who would like nothing better than sit in the corner booth alone. Then Peeta Mellark turns up, and makes her open up to him. But what will she do when she finds out that his past is more complicated than he lets on?


**This was just something I decided to write while being really bored on a Friday night. Not sure if I'll continue, depends on public demand I guess.**

**Hope you enjoy!**

The music in the bar was even louder than she remembered it. She was just about to turn around and return to the car, but a young, smiling bartender stopped her.

"Can I get you somethin', gorgeous?" he said with a low, husky voice. She snorted and smiled to herself. That's a voice only Chuck Bass can pull off. Despite herself, she ordered a tequila. She figured the weather was hot enough for one of those.

Today had been a stressful day to say the least. To start with, Rufus had left her a present on the kitchen rug this morning, which she didn't have time to clean up before she left for work. She will never forget the odor that had spread throughout the whole apartment by the time she got home in the afternoon. The usually boring and eventless day at the library was made even worse by a group of kindergarteners whose one and only intent was to rip the library books into pieces. She didn't know what had been worse, the five-year olds running around or her boss blaming it on her incompetence. She had worked way too hard for that job, and was not going to lose it, even though she hated it more than she had hated her sister's cat. And that was saying something.

She realized that she had spaced out when the bartender placed her tequila on the desk in front of her. She quickly took her drink and headed for the booths in the corner of the bar, ignoring the man's hoots behind her. But to her dismay, her favorite corner booth was taken. It never was. The man looked up at her before she had time to say anything. He raised his eyebrows.

"Oh, I'm sorry, is this your seat?" he said, and suddenly she felt annoyed.

"Why would it be my seat? Everyone sits where they want anyway, don't they?" she said defensively. This was not what she came here for.

"Okay. I just figured, since... I don't know." he said hesitantly, sipping at the beer in front of him. His blond hair fell down over his forehead like bangs. His eyes were blue, and he wore a dark blue plaid button-down shirt. He looked a bit too sophisticated to be sitting in the corner stall on a Thursday night drinking a beer alone.

"I don't know who you are, but this is my booth. I always sit here. Alone. And I prefer it that way." she said, surprised by how harsh her own words sounded. He looked up at her and furrowed his brow.

"Okay, you know what, I was just leaving anyway, so go ahead. It's yours." he said, getting up, finishing off his beer and leaving before she got to say another word.

After he left, she sat down and sipped at her tequila slowly, making it last for as long as possible as always. It wasn't until she got home in the middle of the night that he crossed her mind again. Who was he, and why had she never seen him before?

She didn't see him again until next week, on the same day. This time, he sat in the booth right across from the corner one. She ordered her usual tequila and marched over to the corner booth. She sat down, deliberately ignoring the man, who was wearing the same plaid shirt as last week. After a long, pressing silence, he broke the ice.

"What makes you come back here every Thursday? Is it the atmosphere, or the alcohol?" he said. She took a big gulp of her tequila, which she realized afterward wasn't a good idea.

"Who do you think you are? Its none of your business." she said firmly. "And besides, it's not me coming back here every Thursday. It's you. You're new here."

"Yeah, figured I'd check the place out. It's been here for as long as I can remember and I've never been, you know?" he said. She didn't answer. It was a rhetorical question, anyway.

"I'm Peeta," he said suddenly, extending an arm across the lane between their booths. She looked at him hesitantly, half-suspecting him to pull back and laugh at her, but ended up extending her arm and shaking his hand. He had a firm grip, and his hands were calloused and warm. She wiped her sweaty palm on her pants.

"Well, aren't you gonna tell me your name?" he asked with a small smile playing on his lips. She snorted.

"Aren't you straightforward," she said, but continued with a calmer voice: "Katniss."

"Nice name," he said, his smile widening. "I like it." she tok a sip of her tequila.

"Yeah right. Everyone thinks it's weird."

"No, I like it. It's original." he said. She thought it was weird how their conversation was starting to sound like two normal people talking to each other, and not like two arch enemies, which could have been the case a few minutes ago. She was not sure whether she liked it or not.

"Thanks, I guess." she said, scratching at her neck. Every time she braided her hair she made the neck part too tight, and she always had to adjust it later not to strain uncomfortably.

"Listen, can I buy you a drink? And maybe move to your booth over there? It's getting pretty boring to sit here by myself all the time, I have to admit." he said. She was surprised, but determined not to let him notice.

"Sure, whatever," she said as dismissively as possible. She knew boy business never ended well.

_It had been a grey November evening when he dropped the bomb. He was late, and she knew something was going on, he hadn't left any messages.. She didn't realize how right she had been until he stormed in through the door, his hair damp from the drizzle._

_ "Katniss, I know I should've told you. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Katniss!"_

_Panic caught up in her throat. She didn't even have to ask. It all started the moment he came home at 4 AM, smelling like some expensive perfume, telling her he had to work a double shift. That wasn't the first time it happened. She believed his lies at first, but after a while they didn't cut it anymore. She stopped listening, ignoring what she knew was happening. He was her best friend. She trusted him, or at least she thought she did, and she didn't want to lose him. But fate doesn't always make happen the things we want to happen, now does it?_

"Katniss?" Peeta asked, suddenly very close to her. She jerked away from him, having been used to the comfortable distance they had between each other when they sat in their separate booths. He placed two coasters on the table, followed by two large beers.

"I don't drink beer." she said strictly, leaning back against the cushion of the seat. Peeta sighed.

"Look, Katniss, I know you're not particularly interested in talking to me, but at least give me a chance, okay? I'm kinda rusty." he said. This made her wonder, _was he hitting on her_?

"Real subtle." she leaned her elbows on the table, shaking the beer glass around a bit, the ice making a clinking sound against the glass.

"Okay, you know what, I can take a hint. You don't want to talk, I get it. Have a nice night." he said, getting up from his seat after digging in his back pocket briefly. He walked away from the booth, glancing back at me once more before leaving the bar. She sighed, gulping down most of her beer all at once. She decided to stay for a couple minutes before leaving, just to make sure she wasn't going to run into him on the street. When she thought he must have gone already, she stood up, and just as she was about to start walking away, she spotted something small and blue on the seat opposite to where she had been sitting. A planner. She opened it, and sure enough, it had Peeta's name in it, apparently he was called Peeta Mellark, as well as his phone number and address. _That motherfucker, _she thought. _Now she'd have to call him._


End file.
